


Honey to the Bees

by BonJiro



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Bug Princesses are not as charming as they seem, Childhood Trauma, Cross-Generational Friendship, Daddy Issues, Dark Comedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil dude becoming a slightly less evil dude, Gen, In which two broken people end up fixing pieces of eachother, Link's in it too, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Healing, Platonic Relationships, Repressed Memories, Shitty wizard Kings dealing with the mistakes of stupid minions, kidnapped the wrong girl, ridiculous amounts of headcanon for Agitha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4519389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonJiro/pseuds/BonJiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which we learn that Moblins are daft creatures that should never be sent to fetch Princesses, and that love has its own instinct, finding the way to a heart as the feeblest insect finds the flower, with a will which nothing can dismay nor turn aside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistaken Identity

Dusk cast darkness across the land, eerie wisps of shadows dancing about the sands and mountains as they sat jagged against the horizon. At the edges of the Desert and in the midst of ancient ruins—furnished and rebuilt in part to house an ungodly band of heathens—Beasts gathered about a fire, like moths to a flame, though it was not the fire that drew them despite the seeping chill of oncoming night.

It was to a man they gathered.

He stood at the foot of crumbling steps with his back to them, clad in a leathered tunic and burnished steel armour, adorned by rare stones—the last vestiges of a culture forgotten, and a people whose little riches were shown posthumously upon their still-living King's garments. His crimson hair, unbound from the tight curls he usually wore, was stroked lightly by the night breeze, giving it a fluidity that matched the roar of the fire behind him. Thick skinned monsters and snorting, boar-like mounts cowered back into the dim light, as his form seemed larger than any gathered, his seven foot stature accentuated by a dangerous air of power.

A large, gloved hand gestured negligently, and out of the thick of the beasts stumbled a duo of Moblins, each as ugly as each other with scars upon their snouts and hardened, beady eyes. Even they were as peons before this dark master, though nearly matched him in size.

Every growl, snort or whimper was stifled, however, when a deep, rich voice rolled forth to fill the silence.

"...Gentlemen." He began with a hint of amusement, the leather of his glove pulling taut as he made a fist. "Here you amass to bear witness to the birth of a new age, not unlike one that past, so very long ago. The calling you heed is one that you all will obey, and in doing so, will continue to live under me as your master. No longer will you wander aimlessly in the night without purpose... No, I have need of an army and you will be the first of my soldiers."

The horde was filled with the hushed whispers of intrigue, guttural and simple in thought, as the reason for their instinctual draw to this place was answered. Many eyes exchanged glances as attention returned to the man, and he himself turned finally to face them.

Darkly tanned skin seemed to glow with copper tones in the fire light, and cast against the sands of his ancient home, even now he maintained the look of a its ruler—harsh lines making up his face, a long held scowl set about a prominent nose, exotic in feature. Amber eyes levelled a wild gaze upon the two hulking Moblin, the shine in them suggesting he was the beastliest of all those gathered.

"You two are the heads of your... pitiful 'tribes', and thus the strongest and most capable of your kin. You will go out into the world and fetch what I require."

He scanned them quietly, taking in their appearance. Rippling muscles bound by thick, dark grey hide, each littered with battle scars and able to carry three times their weight. The shorter of the two was squat in stature but more than making up for it in girth; coarse hair held back by a leather throng, braided crudely, with a large slash mark upon his snout. The other, bald, with large ears and a protruding jaw—tusk-like teeth rose upward from it and he was thinner than the other, but not by much.

 _The mountain and forest leaders,_ He thought, reassuring himself,  _Surely together they will be able to pull off a simple game of fetch. All of that strength and force behind the retrieval of one treasure, along with the element of surprise... A pity I do not have more time to call on more capable choices._

Pushing any doubt to the back of his mind, the Gerudo grimaced lightly before continuing with a low and threatening tone.

"I seek a girl. A Princess, in fact... Listen well, for I will only say this once and likewise, you will only have one shot at this. Fail and you will perish."

One of the Moblin masters flinched at this, taking to idly chewing its cheek at the thought. The other, with the tusk like teeth, simply stared at nothing in particular and thought about the fact that it could not eat horse-meat stew were it to die. He quickly found that the prospect upset him, and after a moment, cringed like the other.

Ganondorf's heavy boot shifted some, pushing the sands about beneath it, as his posture straightened.

"The girl you seek is the Hylian Princess. Long, pointed ears, blonde hair... She will appear tiny to you; almost frail, delicate. She is young, still a child, yet on the cusp of growing into a woman. She will be wise... So you would do will not to listen to her—it is likely she may try to persuade you from capturing her, given the chance. She resides within the walls of the castle. Go now. Find her and bring her to me."

With a dutiful grunt from one and a snort of strained comprehension by the other, the Moblins found themselves dismissed with a wave of his hand. Bokoblins garbed in patchwork vests brought them their crude effects and mounts, and within minutes, the desert sands were whipped up behind their charging boars as they set out into the night to achieve their task.

And so it was that two Moblins, not the brightest of creatures by any stretch, came to find themselves at the gates of Hyrule Castle Town by and by. A defiance in their natures certainly, and any normal citizen would be alarmed by their appearance so close to civilisation, very few of them realising what that presence may mean. But as the beating stubby hooves took them closer, another oddity had occurred within the town walls—a pillbug had rolled its way along the cobblestone in search of a cupboard, and sadly, gotten quite lost.

Normally, a pillbug's sense for where a cupboard was couldn't be matched. If it came to finding one, there was no equal in all the land, and if ever in need of a cupboard one should certainly ask a pillbug. Perhaps it was the moisture in the air, or the distractingly lovely glow towards the bar, but this lonesome insect rolled along hopelessly in search of its elusive home among the plates and knick-knacks of someone's house all the same.

Little did it know, it was being stalked.

Tucked inconspicuously behind the corner of a nearby house, hidden by the shadow of the eaves, bright lavender eyes watched the pillbug's journey with interest. A fluttering of long lashes accompanied by a gentle hum, she stepped from shadow to shadow, creeping ever closer to her quarry.

"Oh, Mr. Pillbug..." She sang softly, a lyrical and happy voice springing from a sweet smile.

The bug stopped immediately, tiny antennae twitching at the sound. The pad of two feet landing after a small hop seemed to startle it however, as it curled up protectively in response. Had it unfurled, it would have seen the visage of a girl bent to peer down at it charmingly, clutching a woven basket of assorted jars and one small net. Her dress was made up of hand sewn fabrics, lace upon the hems and home made jewellery and beads shimmering lightly by torchlight as it flickered from a lonely iron sconce.

Wispy blonde bangs hung over her forehead, rosy cheeks adorned with spots of colour—blue, red and green, like the goddesses in the heavens above. Her lips held a natural pout that all but vanished, to be replaced by the dimples beside her cheery smile.

"Are you lost, little pillbug? Come with Agitha, she has a wonderful cupboard for you to live in..." She cooed, offering a dainty, cloth wrapped hand for it to climb onto.

Without any further fear, as if her voice were a siren's call, the small insect uncurled and with little more than a tentative twitch of feelers, took its invitation to crawl across her fingers. The warmth of her palm was a far cry from the chilled cobblestone, and quickly the pillbug was at ease, even lifted high up from its world to be held before her face.

Pigtails bounced lightly with her airy giggle, a sound that would lift the hearts of any who heard it, as a leather bonnet held the tresses in their perky pose. She was a gorgeous sight, even to an insect—perhaps, to an insect especially. Not many insects could bow, but if they could, surely they would kneel before the lovely Princess Agitha. She turned on her heel in a fluid motion, with all the grace of a butterfly upon the breeze, and took off in a light skip toward her castle home.

"You shall love Agitha's cupboard, Mr. Pillbug, and her castle. There are so many friends of yours there waiting." A grand castle it was too, with two levels and stained glass; greenery and a looking window—just like any castle ought to have. Save for one thing: a throne. The castle of a bug Princess held no throne, but this was no matter to the insects.

Agitha knew better than that. She had wings upon her back to fly with them, to be free among them, for no man, woman or Princess should ever lord over such cute subjects from a throne when they could play in the fields alongside them.

But as a cheerful and carefree hum echoed lightly through the alley ways, it caught the floppy, chipped ears of one of the Moblin leaders, who had made their clumsy way well and truly into town, creeping down the empty back streets. His coarsely braided mane whipping over his shoulder guard as his head turned to the sound; he paused to consider what he'd heard.

A lofty whack was given to his partner in order to get their attention, drawing a disgruntled snort as beady yellowed eyes blinked toward the other.

"Get back, dere she is... I see 'er..." He growled low in a strange and surly brogue, leaning a heavy frame just enough to peer around the alley corner, and past a large terracotta pot.

The other, eyes narrowed in offence to the whack before his mind caught up to the words just in time to stave off a returned blow, suddenly moved to peer past. From around large tusks, which had the habit of slurring his speech some, his chops twitched before speaking.

"...How d'ya know it's the one the Mas'sah wants, Domah? Could be any li'l girl..." He grumbled, incredulous as he fumbled with his poorly made vest, picking at loose stitching.

"She said she was a Princess, Forg. I 'eard her me'self." Domah scoffed, as if it were obvious. "She's goin' to the castle with dat bug she jus' caught... Probably gonner eat it... No wonder she's so skinny." He mused aloud, scratching his protruding belly as he refocussed his thoughts as best he could.

The only thought that mattered to Domah at this point was the threat of death that awaited should either return empty handed—if not very much of anything got through to the thick-headed leader of the Mountain Moblins, the malicious glint burning in the Gerudo's eyes wasn't one of them to go amiss.

Straining himself to contemplate—the visible twitching of his eye momentarily giving this fact away—Forg brought a chubby hand to scratch at his maw. "She got yellow hair... And she got dem pointy ears, too... She's all tiny-like... And a Princess, what lives in a castle... But Mas'sah said she gotta be wise. How are we t'know dat?"

With a roll of his muscled shoulders, tribal tattoos rippling with the movement, Domah gave his partner a jagged toothed grin. "...We'll go give 'er a test."

A strange and absent chuckle sounded between them, before they set off after the girl—They stalked down the alleyway with careful steps, as stealthy as was possible for beasts their size.

Unfortunately, that translated to the volume of a heavyset man stomping along in steel greaves, and in the empty streets, the sound carried clearly.

Down the way, from outside her 'castle', Agitha stopped, pointed ears twitching to the sound of footsteps. She blinked some, not expecting to be followed at such an hour, and casually turned her head to look down the softly lit alleyway. What she managed to catch in the shadows was the shuffling movement of something three times her size, trying hopelessly to hide itself after noticing her gaze.

Delicate brows furrowed some in confusion—nobody in Castle Town was so large, or so... monstrously shaped. Any other girl her age might have fled through the threshold of their home and slammed the door to lock it, fixing every latch possible before propping a chair against it for good measure, but she was not like the other children on these streets. Squinting through the shadow, she placed the rescued pillbug on her collar, stepping away from her door and back out into the open.

"Hello? Has somebody come to see Agitha?" She called out blindly, not readily being able to think of any other reason for there to be a stranger nearby. Perhaps they had come with another of her wayward subjects. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, the girl's welcoming smile returned.

"Come on out here." Agitha coaxed gently, waving one hand toward the silhouette while the other tugged idly at her laced skirts, the jars rattling lightly within her basket.

A grunt was heard, and then something akin to a hand connecting with a pumpkin, along with a throaty language that made little sense to the girl. As she blinked, and her pillbug crawled to hide behind a lock of her hair, the shadows shifted slowly, the beasts emerged from the stone alcove and into the lantern light cast from beside her doorway.

They held harsh, serious looks upon their haggard faces, piggish features screwed up in scrutiny. They dressed plainly, crudely made leather garments like that of men, though clearly these were beasts, towering above her. They looked as if they could swallow her in a single bite, crush her with one hand; the notion occurred to Agitha that perhaps a Goddess had mixed a bulldog with a boar and made them stand on their hinds in humour.

Tilting her head some as she studied them, any confusion as to whether she might flee soon vanished as she began to clap. She bounced on her feet, with a light giggle, moving quickly toward them. "Piggies! Oh, have you come to play with Agitha? Don't be scared, everybody can be friends with Agitha, she won't run away, no no no!"

Not expecting this, Forg took a step back without thinking, but shook his head forcefully and took to thrusting a chubby finger at the girl—She stopped just short of it, staring at it with her mouth set in a little 'o'.

"Oi, you... Princess! You is a Princess, ain't ya?" He growled out around his tusks, raising a lofty brow. Domah gave him a glance, but kept silent, mirroring his expression as he folded bulky arms over his chest.

Agitha simply blinked once, before her lips split into a sweet smile. She dipped quickly into a curtsy—a gesture lost on the beasts—and nodded when she stood, her pigtails bouncing lightly. "I am Princess Agitha, of the Bug Kingdom, yes." She beamed, clasping her hands in front of her happily. She did so love making new friends—they may not have been insects, but they seemed to look scary, and usually, scary things didn't have many friends. Something Agitha held no qualms in rectifying.

"...Bug Kingdom...?" The Moblin leaders repeated in unison, blinking with some confusion.

Agitha nodded once more, brushing her hair aside and retrieving her tiny insect companion to let him roll about in her palm. "Oh, yes, it is a glorious kingdom... Many subjects, of all shapes and sizes. Little ones, cute ones, ones that can fly and flutter and roll around, dig holes, spin webs, hide in the leaves..."

Forg looked to Domah, an expression of confusion stained onto his brutish face. Luckily, Domah kept his head, living up to his name as the most clever Moblin for the last century—realistically, that wasn't saying much, but even as far as Moblins went, his next thought was definitely an exceptional one.

"Al'right den, Princess bug. What about that one dere you got? You gonner eat it?" He rumbled, scratching his round belly idly.

The girl looked at him with a horrified expression, a tiny gasp accompanied by her other hand lifting to clasp protectively over the pillbug—he'd be awfully upset if he'd heard talk of being eaten. She frowned, a cute expression that held no anger, but did indeed show some indignity at the foolish notion.

"Of course not, Mr. Piggy! How could somebody eat a poor little bug? I'll have you know that bugs are not good for eating at all, no no no, and even if they were, this one is quite unpalatable!" She stopped, furrowing her brows as she whispered to her hands, "...No offence..."

Clearing her throat, she continued, closing her eyes in a matter-of-fact manner. "Armadillidiidae are not for eating... But if you wanted to feed  _him_ , you might give him some leftovers. Let him be in a kitchen and he'll find a cupboard and be quite happy. He is part of the woodlice family, you know, they are fond of wood."

The beasts stared down at her, quite unawares as to what exactly she was on about, but she'd used a very long word and looked as if she knew exactly what she meant. She didn't even have to stop and think about it first. Slowly, after a few moments, Forg turned his head to peer at Domah, a wry and ugly smile showing the gum holding his tusks in place.

"Sounds t'me like she knows an awful lot 'bout them critters, Domah."

Domah nodded some, his grin showing off equally horrendous teeth. "You'd be right dere, Forg. She knows plenn'y... And whatta ya call knowin' plenn'y?"

"...I'd call it bein' wise." Forg chuckled with a nod, suddenly taking to cracking his knuckles in slow, sickening pops.

Agitha glanced between the two of them, noticing immediately that something in the air had changed—they were advancing on her with those greedy looks, like the boy down the road looked at candy through the shop window. Unconsciously, the tiny girl took a step back, a strange tingle of apprehension shooting down her spine.

"...A-Agitha isn't tasty either, and you know, it is very rude to eat someone you've just m-met... We're friends, and fr-friends don't eat each other!" She chastised shakily, holding up a finger in protest as wide eyes flitted about toward her door. There was no way she'd get in now without them barging in as well. The pillbug seemed to sense the danger, and quickly rolled into what was, quite possibly, the tightest ball it had ever managed as from Forg's satchel pouch was produced something that looked suspiciously like a Hessian wheat bag.

A lonely scream echoed eerily across the cobblestone streets that night, waking more than a few of the neighbours from peaceful slumbers—the scream of a small girl, the only girl on the street without a parent, though closely watched by any decent one nearby. The guards on night duty came rushing to Agitha's castle in search of the source, spears drawn at the ready to protect the littlest resident, but sadly, found nothing. Several of the families who shared the street searched the alleys, lanterns lit and eyes prying into every nook and cranny, but to no avail.

The second Princess of Hyrule Castle Town, held dear by many more than insects it seemed, had vanished without a trace to leave a rather large gathering of people to return to their homes with heavy hearts, wondering what evil stalked their streets as to attack poor Agitha.

As dawn broke hours later, the sky painted with orange streaks, one boy continued to search, calling out for her and refusing to give up. Finally, he stopped outside her window, as he did everyday, and peered inward to see his Princess no longer there. She had been stolen from the gates of her own castle... and her subjects needed tending. He'd watched her so many times while she performed her duties; he knew how to care for them, and make sure that Agitha had a Kingdom to return to.

And so he began, swallowing his sadness to go out and fetch fresh leaves for their breakfasts.

Meanwhile, far from the contained world of the Castle Town that Agitha had known all her life, she now found herself wriggling hopelessly within a canvas sack, tossed about on the back of giant saddled boar. She could see very little through the pin-prick holes within the fabric, but the light of day and a severe change in climate would denote that hours had passed easily, and with them many miles.

Her beastly captors did not even provide her a conversation on which to eavesdrop or glean information out of, instead jabbering on in some horrid language of their own. The canvas material held her tightly, curling her into a foetal position as the searing heat seeped through with a vengeance. Somewhere in the blur of it all, Agitha began to cry—an almost foreign thing to the bug Princess, these tears of being scared and no longer in control. She had felt such things only once before, and the reminder only served to deepen her quiet sobs.

The pillbug, being a kindly creature, curled into the hollow of her collarbone comfortingly, hidden by a tucked hem. It may never see a cupboard again, but the tears of its Princess far outweighed that in priority. It would simply console and keep company until they both returned to her castle somehow, and in doing so, the promised paradise among her plates.

A change in momentum drew the fragile girl out of her withdrawn state as suddenly, everything came to a stop. Clutching tightly at her puffed cotton sleeves, nervously, lavender eyes strained to make out anything she could from within her material confines. Sweat stung her eyes, blonde bangs sticking to her forehead and the sides of her face, but through the tiniest gaps was found some semblance of sight.

The outside world was glaringly bright, wherever she was—the air held an earthy scent, something of a rare spice, and smoke. Something dewy as well, musty like the stink of a wet dog, and she realised there must have been quite a few more beasts about than just the two.

She blinked, squinting and shifting uncomfortably, her toes curling in anxiety. There was little more she could do.

… _Oh… The smoke, and more of them… They are going to eat me; they already have a fire to roast poor Agitha…_

The thought turned to a whimper as the sac was roughly shifted; the sound of ropes whipping about suggesting it was being untied from the mount. A moment of weightlessness was quickly followed by her small frame being shunted forward in the wheat bag, gravity taking its toll as she was handled roughly. Agitha winced, her skin itching from the Hessian and her legs and forearms chaffed and stinging—her left hip was bruised some from the ride as well.

The sound came somewhat muffled, but soon, a higher pitched voice speaking the same growling tongue spoke up, answered in kind by the beast holding her. They seemed very pleased with themselves, though she could be mistaken—their dialect was one of feeling, she'd gathered, and if one listened to the tone and inflection, they may decipher at least the basic mood. The higher pitched one paused, before it spoke again much more meekly. It must've been a question of some sort, but the answer it received was a vicious, and perhaps even a defensive one.

Agitha cried out as the sac was suddenly jolted again, feeling as if she'd been tossed about in a heavy punch—A nauseating crunch was heard, heavy and solid in impact. Immediately, her cloth wrapped hands shot to clamp over her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut in some shock and revulsion of the new sound. Her pristine mind was suddenly assaulted, tainted by the thoughts of bones cracking and sinewy flesh tearing apart and it made her feel a strange gnawing, like a lost memory attempting to resurface. Never did she think such things; all but forgetting such violence existed until forced to face it.

As it echoed in her mind, her shock blinded her to the return of slow movement, a sign that they had begun walking again. The two Moblin leaders who had captured her were now talking with a much different tone, something belittling and even a bit haughty, accentuated by the way they seemed to bite out the words.

It was hard to hear anything over the beating of her heart within her ears, though they twitched to any sound, foreign or familiar. Any thoughts had dwindled into a numbed sense of panic, angst and disbelief as her body took over, a strange pulse of adrenaline making itself known. She wouldn't open her eyes, her fingers curled around her arms and digging into fabric—even a shoe had come loose, and Agitha was never one to have that; normally the girl had an obsessive compulsive desire to have everything on her person just so, but now all of that seemed… unimportant.

The creak of heavy doors sounded, and it seemed as if they had crossed into another world entirely. Silence ruled; the harsh light of the outdoors was no longer present, and with the shadow came a deathly chill so contradictory to the heat she'd endured. Even the occasional, seemingly reflexive grunt from the beasts hushed in this place, the only thing audible being a faint crackle—a small fire somewhere nearby. The air felt thick, heavy, as if weighted by some implacable pressure and Agitha's heart began to beat faster—somehow, the thought of being eaten had paled in the presence of this unknown, and while this fear she couldn't put to anything in particular, it was an instinctual one that couldn't be swallowed down.

Then she was thrown. She could hear the air move around the bag harshly, a dull pain racking her shoulder as it caught the brunt of the impact. Not as hard as she'd expected, the ground seemed to give and shift beneath her weight. The pillbug flew from her collar to hurtle toward the side of the wheat bag, nothing more than an insignificant ball as it bounced off, luckily not crushed by its mistreated Princess. Writhing some in discomfort, Agitha's answer as to where she was came through in tiny grains, seeping in through the pin-pricks. Her eyes grew wide when she spotted them, knowing now exactly how hopelessly far from home she'd been taken.

Sand. She was in the Desert, not in Hyrule proper at all but far into the West, where the maps only defined the world in unsure patches, drafted by the hardiest of explorers.

Then one of the Moblins spoke in low and humble tones, as clear as was possible from their native tongue, though still a rough and partially garbled Hylian.

"Me Lord, we have got you the Princess what you been searchin' fer. She weren't no trouble at all…"

Agitha held her breath, unblinking as she waited. A few good moments passed, until finally, a boot fall, heavy though with little sound. When their master spoke, it came a rich rumble, smooth like a lie but gravelled like a man.

A man… A human.

"Have you really now? …Prompt, very prompt indeed." He chuckled, but it didn't sound as if her were impressed. "…Too prompt for my liking, in fact."

A confused sound was burbled, stuttered almost, as the other Moblin with the tusks spoke—she could tell by the difficulty he had in not drowning his words with spit.

"Mas'sah, you said to get 'er quick-like. An' we did… We gave 'er a test an' all. She got everythin' you asked fer… A Princess from a castle with Yellow 'air, pointy ears, small-like, and very, very wise, Mas'sah, tested 'er me'self… Well, uh, unless she ain't wise… then Domah be testin' 'er."

A long pause followed, and Agitha began to think they may have left, panic setting in once more. Then, she heard something that reminded her of the guards; metal, sliding with a hiss. She flinched instinctively, recognising it—someone had drawn a very sharp blade.

She was not the only one to recoil at the sound either, as a snort of surprise and apprehension echoed out. A sickening squelch and a splattering of something wet followed shortly after as a distinctly pig-like squeal echoed forth. The Hessian buckled beside her face, stained by the blow, a dotted pattern of dark, purple tinged crimson now upon it. For a moment Agitha's mind strained to understand what had occurred, but as the beast let out a pained grunt and began to breathe with a ragged, shallow intake, the deepest and most quiet corner of her mind pieced it together reluctantly.

"M…Mas…sah…uch…" The sickening gurgle came forth, devolving quickly into choked words of the Moblin language.

The master spoke again, calm and to the point, though it seemed directed at the other. "For your sake Domah, he had better be correct." The blade was removed with another wet swipe, as to the sand fell a heavy body with a thump.

A shuffling of clumsy, desperate movement along the sand drew near, and Agitha was shunted again as the bag was hoisted and claws all but ripped it apart. She squealed, tussled about and with little more than a glimpse of the wooden chambers, the Bug Princess hit the sand with a painful cry. Fire seemed to travel across her scalp as one of her pigtails was yanked upward, bringing her up forcefully to dangle with her knees brushing against the ground. She squealed, renewing her tears as her eyes slammed shut and frantic hands flew to fight of the beast's grip on her hair.

"Princess Bug! Here she be, Mas'sah! No more!" Domah pleaded hoarsely, beady eyes trained upon the glowing blade soaked with his kin's blood. "Jus' take 'er, no kill!" His speech seemed to grow into a more literal translation of his own in desperation, his hulking form jittery now as he shook his head urgently.

In the haze of it all, Agitha's eyes opened just enough to see, through the blur of tears, a towering dark figure. Dressed only in a pair of loose fitting cotton pants, held around his lower waist securely by a silken sash, one could clearly see the criss-crossing of scars upon his skin; a warrior, certainly, but one scar topped them. Across the abdominals lay a brilliant streak, like a crack upon glass, glowing with a silver hue.

His hair was a blaze of red, tumbling over broad shoulders in tussled waves—his chin sporting a neatly tended patch of it. The rest of him seemed as a shadow, dark skin in the dim light absorbing any glow from the fire. She could make out the details of his face, bathed in shade as it was to cast harsh relief, amber eyes glistening like suns; death in them as fiery brows knitted a fierce scowl into place. His lip lifted just enough for a pointed canine to be seen through a sneer.

To the left of him, face down and bleeding out quickly, was Forg, and still his thick blood dripped from the blade that had ended him. Pure white, glowing with tainted purity and almost matching the scar, the weapon shed the little light needed to add camber, outlining tightly coiled muscle as it was lifted toward Domah, and with him, Agitha.

"…Congratulations Domah. She matches the description…" The sneer transformed into a horrid and feral smirk. "Allow me to show you your reward."

Lavender eyes shot wide as her breathing stopped entirely. She matched his description? He was looking for her? What did he want with her? He wouldn't hurt her, would he? The air seemed heavier still, and slowly, the pain subsided as the grip on her pigtail released. She collapsed to her knees, hands seeking to stabilise her as she simply stared down at the sand beneath, unable to do anything more. Her pillbug lay curled below her, safe in his ball still.

How she wished, more than ever, to be a pillbug and curl up, rolling away unnoticed into a cupboard.

But nothing happened. Not a step nor a swing, not a sound was made as all became silent once again. Her fingers curled into the sand helplessly, the fleeting hope that this may be a nightmare returning to her, as her gaze drifted courageously away from her companion and up to the Master. He still stood in the same pose, that sinister and sickly curve on his lips, blade tilted up toward the beast. Those piercing golden eyes lowered inconspicuously toward her, locking onto her own for only a moment.

The air was filled with a sound that could not be imagined unless one were present to have heard it, something like a water balloon overfilled by the fountain and bursting early. Agitha did not hear it fully, her mind would not process it—to her, it was muffled, blocked out by the weight of this Master's gaze. The walls and sands were peppered with gory debris, chunks of flesh and bone amongst splashes of blood, once taken together to make up Domah's head. Now, little more than a macabre jigsaw puzzle, twisted and warped so that it may never hold the same shape, even if reassembled.

The slick, sticky warmth covered her back in splatters, dotted her legs, infused with her golden tresses and seeped past her clothes. The heaviest of it ran in slim rivulets down her snowy flesh and stained the ground around her as it dripped, absorbed as the desert drank deep of it. It painted pink wings, handcrafted to give her freedom and worn upon her back, always—it would break something in her, to realise that those wings could never carry her away, like a butterfly, from this moment.

The sodden slump of the corpse fell backward against the wooden wall, painting it a sickly black colour. Now, she was alone with the Master who had sought her, without distraction.

The Gerudo looked down at her, nonchalantly plucking a handkerchief from a pocket and taking to wiping the blood from the beautiful, misused blade. A thoughtful click of his tongue echoed as he held the weapon up and inspected it.

"Get up, child. You stand before a King. Introduce yourself."

Her arms trembled as she drew a taxing breath, her stomach turning within her, and struggled feebly to stand. Upon wobbling legs, Agitha stared down at the blood about her feet—one without a shoe—and drew on her one defence, hoping for all the world it would sustain her now as it always had. Rebellious against her weak ankles, the child dipped low, clutching the sides of her ruined dress as she managed a curtsy.

The pillbug slowly unfurled, plucking up its courage, and scurried across the sand to take up place upon her bare foot protectively, its feelers raised and twitching gallantly.

Tilting her head up and scraping all of her grace—and daring—together, Agitha stared up at him from beneath long lashes.

"…You have an audience with Princess Agitha, of the Bug Kingdom… Your Majesty."


	2. How to Train your Moblin

Purple hues drifted to paint the horizon with shades of twilight, the vague impression of whipping sands in the far distance blurring the line between heaven and earth. From within the ruins of a sandstone palace, carved into the high rising rock of the Mesas and fleshed out with wooden structure to overlook the dunes, smoke rolled lightly from a window to drift in the cooling air. It licked his fingers, staining them with the smell of it, though he paid no mind; The Gerudo King had found a moment of peace, and reclined against the carved wood of the window, golden gaze watching the beasts below with mild interest.

Though his gaze wandered indolently, on the odd occasion spying a beast that he may see broiled and served to him tonight, Ganondorf's attention waned into a tired sigh.

There was so very much left to do, and he'd wasted precious time. Even the leaders of the Moblins he commanded proved to be as useless as bottled piss, and in these early days, he did not have the resources to do better unless he did so himself—a risk of exposure that would eliminate the advantage of anonymity and surprise he held at present.

Ganondorf lifted the sliver of paper roll to his lips lazily, drawing back on it to inhale the rich smoke as the ember flickered, shedding a dim light on his rugged features. He was no closer to Zelda, and the girl that had been taken from Castle Town by mistake would likely have caused alarm by now—her parents would, doubtless, be aware of her being missing, if not a sizable portion of townsfolk along with them and especially the guards… He couldn't afford that kind of panic in town, but neither could he return her. Because of the Moblins' foolishness, it would be a while before he could attempt another sly kidnapping of the Princess without the risk of being caught, but this time, he would make sure it got done properly and make the journey personally.

Why must I always do everything myself? He thought cynically, exhaling wispy smoke through his nostrils and smothering the crude cigarette upon the windowsill negligently.

As for the girl, Agitha, she would have to stay until he held enough power and influence to strike, lest she give away his position or identity; an unwanted guest, rather than a prisoner of note. Still, young Hylian girls were groomed for housekeeping in preparations for when they had families. Perhaps she might be of service to him, even if it was only as a maid…

Then again, she does think herself a Princess, doesn't she? He grimaced, tracing the horizon as he turned away from the view, Princesses don't often clean. Well, I suppose she'll be in for a shock then. But all childish fantasy has to die sometime. The Gerudo snickered darkly, reaching to take his sword from its display upon the wall, the glow of it warm against his hand. He was hungry, and a roasted boar leg sounded quite appealing.

Meanwhile, unaware of the Dark Lord's plans to find dinner—and likely, have her cook it—the lovely Agitha sat humming lightly to herself, a lyrical and happy song that she'd known all her life, but could never remember learning. Her legs were folded so that she sat upon her feet, keeping them warm as the harsh temperature of the Desert vanished with the oncoming night, and settled on the sandy floor of a small wooden room. It seemed to be a storage closet of some sort, but far larger than any she'd ever seen; though roughly made shelving lined most of the log walls, the room was bare and yet unused. In front of her, the bottom of it sunken slightly into the sand, sat a tin wash basin filled shallow with water—the only thing given to her after introducing herself to the King, who hadn't said more than two words to her since. She'd simply been dragged off to this place by more of the beasts and told to wash up.

The pillbug sat atop the girl's leather bonnet, feelers twitching idly to the sound of her sweet voice against the light swish of the water. It didn't mind it all that much here, surrounded by wood as they were; though its loyalty was with its Princess as ever, the small abode of logs in which they sat currently reminded it some of a giant cupboard and that was comforting. It was just a cupboard built for Agitha, rather than itself.

Washing her hands in the basin, ivory skin was cleaned slowly of smeared and dried blood, the strange purplish tint to it colouring the water. Agitha didn't seem to mind. As a matter of fact, the girl didn't truly realise what it was that covered her, but she was growing rather fond of the colour. She wondered idly if the 'Piggies', Domah and Forg, would wake up again soon, once their wounds were seen to—she knew how to sew. If she could find all the pieces of Domah's head and sew them together, she was fairly confident she could even make him a bit easier to look at, and then she would stitch up Forg's belly and they'd both wake up again and be happy.

That's what friends were for, after all; making one other happy and being there for them, just like her and the insects. Domah and Forg weren't insects, no, and perhaps they had been slightly mean to her, but Agitha was sure they only did so because of the Bully who was nasty to them in turn. It wasn't their fault, they were scared of him—and rightly so, the flame haired Bully had hurt them rather badly and was quite scary… But she had told the Piggies they could be her friends, and now that she understood why they had been cruel, she could forgive them and return to their friendship.

She just needed to wake them first.

"Oh, Mr. Pillbug… Agitha's clothes are all ruined, now… But there is nothing else to wear." Her cute features furrowed up in confusion as to what to do about that. "We'll have to find something to make clothes out of… But for now, don't look, okay?"

The Pillbug twitched some in confusion, watching as her clean fingers rose to offer him safe passage to the ground, but complied all the same. It swayed as it saw the light hearted smile on her face, charmed, and almost completely forgot about her request as it was placed softly upon the sand. But as the girl turned away from the basin, reaching to undo straps and unclip buttons, the Pillbug swiftly remembered. If Pillbugs could blush, the pink tinge upon its bug like features would have burned furiously, but as they cannot, it simply curled up in modesty, allowing its Princess some privacy.

The blood stained wings from her back were set down first, followed by the purple sash around her waist and the green dress, folded neatly upon the sand. Her white shirt was completely ruined, covered with spots and stains of reddish purple, the puffed sleeves of it worn from where they had rubbed against the burlap sack. The stockings were torn up here and there, and her single shoe was left scuffed and without a partner. The pink butterfly that she clipped onto her dress was set delicately next to the basin, and Agitha could only stare sadly at it; the fragile wings ripped and bent, tattered from abuse.

Finally, fingers took to the string tying her bonnet secure, undoing the light knot beneath her chin and tugging the garment from her head over her pigtails. Left only in a small pair of bloomers, Agitha's hands rose to cover her chest self consciously, a pink tone to her cheeks though she knew nobody saw. Her hand cupped her cheek lightly, head shaking.

"Left to this indecency… It isn't right for a young Lady! No, no, no!" She sighed, picking herself up slowly and the Pillbug with her, setting it atop her bare locks as she peered toward the improvised door. "You can look again, Mr. Pillbug. It can't really be helped."

She padded over to the exit, the door itself fashioned crudely out of a few planks, tied by straps of leather, and took a hand to it gingerly. Keeping her arm wrapped securely over her chest, she pushed it open, peeking her head out cautiously to look—blonde pigtails bounced as Agitha's gaze whipped this way and that, studying the hallway and seeing that there was nobody around. Precariously, she slipped through the gap of the door, wincing as it made a loud creak, but as nothing stirred she found the courage to tiptoe out into the open.

Looking around, it struck her that most of this queer fort was bare of furnishings or any little somethings to cheer the space up. It was that strangest castle she'd ever seen, and hers was much better, despite being smaller; in fact this palace almost looked like it had been built in quite a rush, and wasn't particularly well done. I bet the Piggies built it, she pondered inquisitively, blinking at the haphazard woodwork. A few daisies could brighten it up nicely.

Slow steps scuffed the sand beneath them softly as Agitha cautiously made her way down the passage, shadows cast about to make the place seem scarier than it was. Turning around a corner, lavender eyes fell quickly to a lopsided window, seeing the night fall and mapping the stars that shone through before others—to Agitha, though, she knew these stars were fireflies that simply flew to high. How else could such bright lights dot the skies at night?

The Pillbug seemed attentive to the chilling wind that blew past it, the strange whistle foreign to both the Princess and itself. It was a very stark reminder how far from home they were; the view of outside consisted of a sea of gold and even the sound of it differed so greatly from the bustling town. It was eerily silent, save only for the winds and the snorts that carried from the beasts below.

Agitha shivered as a gust breeched the small opening, blowing against her bare skin, but turning away from it as hands rubbed at her arms in warming motions, she spied the flap of a red flag. It hung from the top of a doorway, serving as some sort of barrier to the next room; the edges were tattered, but it looked to be in good condition besides and it would easily make a new dress.

Brightening at the find, her lips parted into a sweet smile, joyful with relief. "Oh, boy! That will do nicely, won't it?" She cried happily, hopping toward the end of the shadow filled hall with enthusiasm as the Pillbug held on tightly to her hair.

As she came closer, the Bug Princess realised that she wasn't quite tall enough to get at it, and so swiftly converted her approach into a running jump, arms flailing upward as she leapt through the crude archway. Her fingertips breezed it, though the grab was unsuccessful, and Agitha quickly tumbled through to trip and land upon her stomach clumsily with an 'oof'.

The Pillbug was thrown from her golden locks, simply unable to hold on, and bounced a few times across the sand, left dizzy when finally it stopped.

The room she'd stumbled into just so happened to be occupied by three Bokoblins, in the midst of an argument over a water canteen, smacking one another's clawed hands and making grabs for it over a table. But the annoyed chattering and cries ceased, all attempts for the drink lost to the sight of the Hylian girl landing face first in the sand. One could spend years in this place and see all sorts of things, but a chewy child in nothing but her bloomers simply appearing before you, helplessly sprawled and practically begging for you to take a bite, came as a bit of a shock. Beady eyes blinked with some disbelief and confusion, snouts twitching with her strange smell as all three focused upon the near naked Bug Princess.

Raising her head, cute features scrunched up into a look of displeasure, pigtails were whipped about to get any sand from her hair. Agitha sat up upon her knees, rubbing a forearm over her nose and eyes, without noticing the beasts—the darkly lit room held no torch, and with only moonlight filtering through a small window, the normally obvious monsters were hidden quite well. She blinked twice, making sure her vision was clear and ignoring the sandpapery sting upon her flesh, as her insect companion quickly unfurled to scurry up to her side and hide in the shadow.

It had most definitely noticed what Agitha hadn't.

"…Kra?" Came an odd question, screeched by a monstrous tongue.

The girl jumped, startled, and turned frantic eyes to the source of the sound, staring at the trio of formerly bickering Bokoblins with surprise. For a moment she was distracted by their appearances as she squinted toward them in the dark, thinking that from what she could make out, these ones looked slightly more like a mother rat and a father pig had gotten married and had children, and all were caught in an odd tableau over a canteen. But, it wasn't long before her own appearance became a factor, lavender eyes flicking downward as she remembered her state. With a gasp, Agitha fell back upon her rear, tucking her legs up and hugging them close to cover her.

"Don't look!" She cried loudly, blushing heavily with a look of horror on her face, before squeezing her eyes shut tightly. "You mustn't look at me! Only a husband is allowed to look at a Lady without clothes, and I'm sorry but I'm not marrying any of you, Rat-Piggies!" With tears of humiliation prickling the sides of her long lashes, the girl seemed to shrink into herself, her emotions building up as her head shook in denial of the indecency occurring.

The Bokoblins, who held a very limited grasp of the Hylian language, didn't continue to stare in spite of her or because they had no care for her request, but rather because they hadn't understood that request in its urgency. It took them a few moments, glancing between each other with slack jaws; the little Princess looked very appealing to them, but not in the way she had thought. No, as it just so happened, these Bokoblins hadn't seen a decent meal in quite a while and Agitha was hard to tear their beady gazes from. The imaginings of that ivory skin crispy from a fire, the supple flesh of her legs juicy and warm, even the jelly of her eyeballs upon a slice of bread… how could they avert their eyes from such a delectable sight?

But such scrutiny for Agitha, in only peach coloured bloomers, was too much; no matter what reasons drove it. When still the beasts stared, hunger about them and spit wiped from their mouths anxiously, the lovely bug Princess could take no more, tilting her head back with a large breath.

She screamed.

Immediately, the trio were knocked from their fantasies of devouring the poor girl, jumping back with the force of the noise and swiftly falling into panic. The canteen was discarded upon the table, as confused looks were given all around, gestures and growled words whispered as the beasts considered this turn of events.

'This is bad! This is very, very bad!' Cried one in their native speak, eyeing the others nervously as clawed hands wrung themselves with trepidation. 'I heard her squealing when Domah and Forg took her to the Master! Next thing you know, they were dead!'

'You were the one thinking about EATING her, you moron! This is your fault for looking at her like that, you scared her!' Hissed another, chattering his teeth in a frustrated sort of way as a pointed digit was levelled at the last member of the group. 'Tagah! You know some Hylian, right? What did she say?'

Tagah, who had spaced out in apprehension and was up until that point preparing to run, turned his snout to the other with bewildered yellow eyes. 'What? I don't know! Something about don't look or something! And I think she wants a mate…? Or, at least, doesn't want us to be her mate?' He stuttered, shrugging with a heckled frown and hissing at the first. 'Damn it, Pogar, this is your fault!'

Pogar clutched his patchwork vest nervously, sending a helpless look toward the others. 'Why is it always my fault?' He cried, blinking at the other. 'Omag, the missus and me have a litter on the way, I don't wanna die! If this gets back to the Master-!'

Glancing back toward Agitha, Omag quickly thought of a solution. 'Hey! She tried to get that flag, right? She's just a pup, what if she's cold?' He suggested, as the other two shrugged. He turned his gaze intently to Pogar then, eyeing his vest and reaching out to grab it. 'Here, gimme your vest, idiot! That might shut her up!'

Agitha's cheeks were red by the time she felt something light hitting her feet, pulling her attention down with a blink, her screams abated for the moment—a vest, made of a variety of hide and stitched poorly together. Furrowing her brows, she looked up to see the Bokoblins huddled in the corner of the room, each looking as if they had seen a Poe and waiting expectantly. One of them was now unclothed. Picking the unsophisticatedgarment from the sand, she donned it quickly; it was large on her, overhanging her shoulders and coming down to her hips. Her hands ran the length of it, and as her embarrassment faded, the Bug Princess picked herself up slowly to offer a weak smile as the open front was held shut.

"…Thank you, Rat-Piggies… Maybe you aren't all that bad…" She said, lavender gaze downcast as a hand reached across to grip her shoulder shyly. "But, could Agitha have that red flag, too? I might wear it like a sarong… Agitha can't be going about in her underwear, can she?"

The trio stared at her, visibly tensing up as she spoke to them, but the one on the left was given a whack in response. He seemed torn between the others and Agitha, but growled a hushed reply to the other, to which he received a frown as the one on the right pointed to the flag with a hiss.

The quick exchange between them, unbeknownst to Agitha, consisted of 'She still wants the flag? What's wrong with the ves—' and 'Shut up you idiot, or she'll have us all killed'.

She fluttered long lashes as one stumbled forward, grumbling to himself, and flicked her a tired glare. But as requested, a lanky arm was lifted to tug the flag down, and turning around to stand a head higher than her, the beast shoved it into her arms. Gathering it up quickly into a bundle, Agitha opened her mouth to say something more, but found herself roughly ushered along and out into the hall from whence she came.

"W-Wait!" Digging her feet into the sand in protest, she batted his arms away, turning on her heel and stare up at the monster with a chastising look. "Give me Mr. Pillbug! I'll not have you eat him!" She ordered, pointing to the insect on the sand behind him.

Tagar's protruding brow lowered, a wrinkle forming on the side of his snout as her returned a look of confusion. What did she want now? She was almost as demanding as the Master himself—a human thing no doubt. With a blink, he turned to follow her finger, scanning the floor and spotting the bug. With an audible sigh, he trudged back into the room to retrieve the insect roughly, pinching it between his digits and giving the thing an apathetic look as its curled form quivered. Casually, he turned his hand upward and flicked the Pillbug at Agitha as he would a ball of his own snot.

With a gasp, the Princess step forward to catch her abused companion in the folds of the flag, watching the tiny grey ball land safely upon the red before turning a cute scowl toward Tagar. "Bad Rat-piggy!" She sulked, the corners of her mouth drawn downward.

Even as the beast turned back to the others, walking away in point of ignoring her now that she no longer posed a threat, Agitha turned her nose up at him. "Rude and disrespectful! How dare you treat a member of Agitha's Kingdom in such a way! Agitha was wrong, you are ill-mannered and mean!" Resentment spat, she turned to leave them and return to her room, stomping down the hall in barely restrained tantrum. "We'll not suffer any more of them, will we, Mr. Pillbug? Are you alright?" Her indignant pout softened as she turned a concerned look to her companion.

In response, the insect unfurled upon its back, looking up at her with a twitch of its feelers to suggest that it was indeed unharmed. Honestly, it was just glad to be in the arms of its Princess and away from those beasts—though human sense would not pick up on such things, bereft of antennae as they were, the Pillbug was very much aware of the fleeting desires of the Bokoblins to eat Agitha, and didn't like it at all. It wanted her to be safe, and happy, and specifically not eaten by some hungry beast—whether there was a cupboard in it or not, the Pillbug wanted to see its Princess home and far away from this place.

Agitha gave it a reassuring smile, but couldn't help but wonder about the creatures here—all of them seemed to have little in the way of manners, and weren't all that interested in making friends that didn't look as they did. She'd never encountered such a thing in anything other than people before. Most animals took to her quite well, and of course her own subjects adored her…

But there was something very different about these beasts. Somewhere between a man and an animal for intelligence; Agitha couldn't help but think of her reactions to them and notice now that most held a similar aversion to her. It was only after the nervousness subsided in the littler ones that their blasé attitude came about. Were they scared of her? …Perhaps they had never dealt with a lady before, and were intimidated by this?

Domah and Forg had seemed quite impressed with her, calling her wise and asking her questions. The bigger ones definitely seemed to be a bit less jittery, but then, that was generally the case with most creatures—the bigger, the more brazen; smaller, more cautious. A caterpillar would not pick a fight with a preying mantis… But then, it also made no sense that a preying mantis—with scythes and mandibles like the beasts had claws and teeth—would be nervous of the caterpillar, yet to even grow fully. She was only a child; her life cycle was in larvae stage… why would Agitha make anything nervous?

What kind of a man was the Bully King to have such subjects, ill-mannered and bad tempered yet so unsure of anything different?

He was looking for Agitha specifically, though, wasn't he? She recalled, lavender eyes wandering to the stars again curiously as she passed the window. Maybe he wants to be Agitha's friend? He is the only person here, he probably gets lonely. He may have spent so long with the beasts, he's become quite beastly himself…

Then again, attacking others with big glowing blades wasn't the best way to make friends, or garner affection… Domah had pulled on her pigtail and been rough with her and the King hurt him back—that could mean the King still knew right and wrong, but his punishments were a bit heavy. He likely didn't know how to be sociable, unlike her, or had simply forgotten—he just needed a few lessons in etiquette and good manners; a guiding hand in this fickle world to reteach what it meant to be a man among beasts and the difference in between. The Princess Agitha was renowned for her kind ways and ability to befriend almost any creature to cross her, it was little wonder he would seek her out for this task.

It was a sad thought, but as Agitha's delicate brows furrowed with moonlight caught in her eyes, it was starting to make sense why she was here. The relationship she held with the insects of her Kingdom couldn't be matched—if a King sought her, then it was likely he needed her advice running his own affairs, and maybe even wanted to ally his Kingdom with hers. She'd never been approached by other royalty for diplomatic affairs… it was quite flattering, really.

A tiny smile came to her, fingers curling into the red fabric with some anticipation—Maybe I've finally found somebody else who can understand the importance of bugs in the world, and that looking different isn't always a sign of being different. How else would he have such a strange band of subjects? It broke her heart to admit, but Agitha was very much aware that although many people found her to be to their liking, her subjects did not often receive the same treatment or regard. Nobody took the needs or wants of insects very seriously at all, and the world was full of people who would simply squash them without care.

"That's it! Agitha has decided!" She announced with a chipper smile to her Pillbug friend, pushing open the collective planks of her door. "We will be the Bully King's friends, and we will remind him to how to treat others by showing him ourselves, Mr. Pillbug. It's all about setting an example, and if he's forgotten how to do that, we'll set one for him. Then he'll remember himself, and soon after, his Piggies will be much nicer as well."

And so it was, that the little Bug Princess planned ahead to befriend the Dark Lord, completely unaware of just how dangerous such a thing was to even contemplate. The Gerudo himself was likewise oblivious to the girl's scheme, returning to his fortress with a rather hefty leg hauled over his shoulder and a bloodied blade in hand.

Even as the next hour passed without event, which allowed plenty of time for the young Princess to revaluate her plan, unfortunately Agitha found that time better spent on fashioning clothing from her prize of the red flag. She had tried it as a dress, a sarong, a skirt; off the shoulder, around her hips, and even utilised the vest in any way she could. By the time a rather ugly looking Moblin was stalking through the passage to her door in order to fetch her, Agitha had altered the vest—unpicking some stitching and reusing the twine—into something of a corset, holding the flag securely about her torso in a what now resembled a sleeveless sundress. Donning the blood splattered wings, it was complete, and the Pillbug once again felt comfortable looking at the girl without the want of blushing.

A brutish grunt drew attention before the creak of wood, a heavy and stubby hand pushing open the door with greater force than necessary. Standing about six foot, burly arms tattooed and a fat gut overhanging a tattered belt and shorts, a bald Moblin made himself known. Ducking his head to enter, the boar-like brute fixed beady eyes upon the Bug Princess, looking slightly confused. The scarred snout gave a twitch, his mind racing to figure out where the girl had gotten clothes that matched what his kin might wear—Hylians did not usually wear such attire, and the beast found itself puzzled by this immediately.

Agitha, who had been dusting with a spare scrap from the vest, turned her head nonchalantly to the intruder. An innocent fluttering of long lashes and a tilt of her head was all that preceded a bright and cheerfully optimistic smile.

"Hello, Mr. New Piggy." She chimed, the Pillbug upon her shoulder giving a twitch of its feelers in reluctant greeting so as not to seem rude.

The Moblin simply stared at her a moment—the young girl was upon her toes, stretched out to reach high to the shelf above her, not even stopping her task at the sight of him; not screaming or recoiling as would a normal little girl, no, this one simply flashed a smile and continued to dust.

Taking a finger to scratch at his bald head, the confused Moblin opened his maw to speak, but found himself forgetting what it was he came for temporarily. The befuddled look upon his horrid features was evident, squinting at the girl and mouth slightly agape, languid tongue licking over a solitary, protruding tooth. One could almost hear the cogs turning in his head… and subsequently jamming.

Drawing back from her task, a lavender gaze focused upon her guest, the scrap of leather held before her to be stroked by idle thumbs. This one looked to be a trifle more dim than usual. "Are you lost? Agitha doesn't know this place very well, either…" She conceded sadly, taking a few steps forward to study the beast—he reminded her of the first two, though not as large. "You have an audience with the Bug Princess. Agitha is my name… What's yours?"

The Moblin seemed to snap out of its reverie then, addressed, and gave a vacant look to his surrounds. Was the Hylian talking to him? She must've been, there was only the two of them there. But just to be sure, he jutted a thumb at himself with a curious noise. Seeing her nod, he blinked, unsure of himself.

"…Gorahg." He slurred bluntly, giving a lazy scratch to his belly. "Me name's Gorahg… Uh… Princess Bugatha."

She giggled, watching Gorahg's previous worry vanish—such simple creatures were these, a little prodding and they were almost pleasant. Immediately, the girl was charmed by him, reminded of Domah and Forg, and padded forward without hesitation to wag a finger. "No, no, no. Agitha. A-gi-tha. Not 'bugatha', silly." She corrected with a smile. "Let's be friends."

Somewhere in the midst of all this, the rather small brain Gorahg possessed seemed to kick back into action, causing a visible twitch of his hide as he recalled the reason for being here. "Uh!" He stammered, curved back suddenly straightening as if it recalled the sensation of a whip. "Mas'sah wants you fer dinner!"

Agitha blinked, taken aback by this announcement as her toes curled into the sand. "Oh?" She managed, brows knitting together. "…Are you sure? He wants to eat me?" The cheeriness in her voice faded some at that thought.

Eating somebody was not the best point from which to start a friendship… in fact, it was quite counter productive to relationship building of any kind at all.

Gorahg's chops twitched with the want to say something, and though he chewed the words about before they came, a Moblin's mind was simple and to the point. "…Me would wanna eat you." He grumbled lightly, not seeing any flaw in the Master's logic—if Ganondorf was going to eat the Hylian girl for his dinner, then Gorahg saw no issue. What else would he want with a chewy looking Hylian?

A moment passed between them as Agitha considered this new turn of events, running it over in her mind. She could hardly imagine a man wanting to eat here, but based on what she'd seen so far, the darkest corner of her told the girl not to dismiss it so easily. Swallowing some apprehension now, fingers nervously tugging upon the leather scrap, she stared at the beast with unfocussed eyes.

"…T-tell him that Agitha isn't tasty. She may look sweet, but she tastes awful. Truly she does." She whispered with trepidation, biting her lip with guilt—she was a horrible liar, and she knew this, but being eaten wasn't on her to-do list. But seeing the Moblin's hollow gaze fix upon her with the same look as when she'd first been taken, the Princess knew there wasn't a lot to be done about this. As the beast began to advance on her, automatic steps backward were taken, Agitha's hand raising in a feeble attempt to stop him.

"P-please, don't take Agitha! Please don't let him eat her… That's n-not what friends do! Why does nobody understand the rules of being friends?" She trembled helplessly, the wings upon her back bending against the wall behind.

"Sorry 'bout this, Agibugga… But what Mas'sah says 'round here goes…" Gorahg grunted with some sympathy, a look of shame etched onto his piggish features.

Despite a sudden struggle on Agitha's part as panic overtook her, weak arms flailing to pound again thick hide, Gorahg's muscled arm swooped low to encircle the girl's waist without hesitation. Her light weight was of little impediment, an effortless tug upward shunting Agitha forward to watch the sand grow further from her feet as she was settled unceremoniously over the beast's bulky shoulder. Tiny fists immediately took to beating against his back in protest as the Pillbug scurried to hide in blonde hair, but the Moblin did not seem to notice at all, turning with a heavy step to carry her away to the boiling pot that must certainly await them.

It didn't take longer than a few minutes of traversing down the wooden passage ways and twists and turns for Agitha's dissent to subside, leaning an elbow upon Gorahg's back and cupping a cheek with a tired look. A sigh escaped her, and the girl quickly decided that she didn't care for being carried about—especially by Moblins. At the very least, this one wasn't nearly as rough with her as the others. But getting a better lay of the fort-like 'castle' she was in, Agitha found her earlier assumptions confirmed—this place really didn't have anything to it at all, besides the poorly constructed walls, a flag here and there, the odd wall-mounted spear or hanging lantern. Even the tables they came across were bare; no plates or cutlery or centrepiece at all.

Thinking about the nervousness of her that seemed to be common among these creatures, an odd question came about, Agitha's pigtail brushing against hide with a tickle as her head was turned. "Greg?" She asked, mispronouncing 'Gorahg'. "Are you absolutely sure he is going to eat me?"

Gorahg considered this for a moment, ducking under another low doorway, and shrugged in response. "S'pose. Mas'sah was hackin' up a boar outside. Must be hungry…" He conceded, a slight whistle around his 's'.

"Did he tell you that he would eat Agitha? What did he say?" She peered at the back of his head incredulously, waiting for an answer.

"Uh…" Gorahg was hesitant, but not because he didn't want to answer. He had to strain himself to remember. A lot had happened since then—she'd accosted him with what his name was, and being her friend, and the new clothes… on the way, he'd even knocked his head on a lantern. It was a miracle Gorahg had remembered to fetch the girl at all.

"Mas'sah said, 'Go gett'm girl. Me hungry.' And… uh… Me did." He answered slowly, hoping that would suffice.

"Greg, that doesn't mean Agitha is going to be eaten. Just because you would eat her, doesn't mean another person would." She chastised with a cute looking frown, though the beast wouldn't see it. "You said he was getting a boar leg. He probably wants to have dinner with Agitha, not have her, silly!" A light slap was given to his back, making him flinch. "Now put Agitha down!"

Almost reflexively, Gorahg complied when he heard an order given, stopping immediately with a scolded look and tearing the girl from his shoulder as if holding onto her may burn him. He held his bulky arms out, blinking once at her while she was at eye level, but under the power of her pout Agitha was set down on her feet once more. The Moblin immediately stepped back from her, unsure of what to do with himself as his arms fell uselessly to his sides, snout twitching with confusion.

"But, Mas'sah did say t'get you. You follow me, Agibugga, or me hit you. You walk if me not carry you." He growled, finding some conviction. "No choice! You goin' to the Mas'sah!" Just for good measure, a stubby finger was levelled at her to imply some authority.

Agitha's smile returned, delicate fingers coming up to grab the finger, and turning without letting it go, she held it over her shoulder. "Well, of course, Greg! You're escorting Agitha to dinner! How else would she find her way?" A gentle tug was given as the other hand came to clutch at the Moblin's wrist, the Pillbug scurrying to settle in the hollow of her collar bone and keep some kind of barrier between the beast and the Princess. "Come along, now."

Finding himself completely puzzled once again, Gorahg allowed himself to be pulled along down the hall, keeping pace with the girl and trying not to scrape her heels with his greater steps. She unnerved him a bit—for something so little, she didn't seem to be afraid of anything but being eaten, and only if it was the Master doing it. How she could bounce back from shock or fear as if nothing had happened and simply smile, Gorahg couldn't understand. Was something wrong with her brain? Certainly, there must be. Though it would never be spoken out loud for risk of him knowing, most of the Moblin kin thought the Master's brain was broken too—not in a smarts way, but the sort of broken that makes their thoughts unlike most others. Perhaps the Master wanted this one because she was like him.

As he recovered from his state, Gorahg guided Agitha through the remainder of their journey in relative silence, watching her closely and listening to her hum absently. The Master held a ferocious temper, while this child seemed the polar opposite, but to the Moblin—simple as he was—he saw a strange similarity that he simply could not define. Both humans; neither put off by beasts, and both broken minded, yet each standing at the extremes of the spectrum of behaviour.

If each were at the furthest ends, they were far apart… but if you took that thought, and made a circle with it, the scary result was that they were, in fact, right next to each other. This epiphany proved two things there and then to Gorahg—one, thinking was a dangerous habit for his kind, and to be avoided. Two, Agitha was just as dangerous as the Master… and to be avoided.

Thankfully, by the time that tangent had reached its end, there they both stood at Ganondorf's door, a large and imposing thing that proudly sported carvings and make far superior to the rest of this place. The Moblin made a point of stopping immediately, as if a barrier more potent than the door itself kept him at bay, and Agitha found herself stopped in her advance as the hand she held would no longer give. Confused, lavender eyes turned upward with a question in them, long lashes blinking up at the beast, but Gorahg simply jerked his hand away with a nod to the girl.

"Mas'sah is in there… So, me showed you where it is, and me leavin' right now. If he eats you, me sorry, but there's nothin' to be done 'bout it... I ain't gonna be ending up like chief Domah." Was offered quickly and with a rather shaky voice, the beast turning quickly to retreat even as Agitha called after him.

"You aren't going to join us for a meal?" She asked innocently, furrowing her brows as her hands patted her legs nervously.

"You didn't wanna be eaten and neither do me!" He called back, not bothering to look behind him as he disappeared behind a corner and safely into shadow.

Blinking, Agitha turned back toward the large door, taking a deep breath. He can't be all that bad, She reassured herself, raising a hand to knock, Even if he isn't all that considerate of his subjects, he is a King. He's hosting a Princess to dine with him…At the very least, he should be diplomatic and that means he'll be better with Agitha.

And with high hopes, pale knuckles rapped softly upon the wooden door, patient and optimistic, to await the answer of the Dark Lord.


	3. A Burning Curiosity

When one lives in the desert, there are three immutable laws with which one must make peace.

Firstly, that the days will be hot and dry, a scorching expanse of wind and sand to whip at the skin and cause you to take shelter.

Secondly, that the nights will be cold, and though the gales blow softly and without their daily anger, the chill that seeps frigidly through any crack it can is a deathly one to carry you away without mercy.

Thirdly, neither warmth at night nor sheltered days may spare you from bodily necessity—people, pets and beasts can quickly turn to being simply meat for one's meal, and water is far more precious than any treasure to be stolen. When presented with the choice a wise Gerudo would choose a water gourd over wine, a bottle over gold, and though outsiders would never understand such humble spoils, those Gerudo would live another day.

It may seem barbaric to those in Hyrule Proper that a faithful boar, having perhaps run a little slower than the other mounts, might be killed and roasted and eaten for its slight inferiority. Some may think it cruel. Some may call for mercy upon the poor creature, having served its purpose without any true failing, and still fit saw an untimely death. But those of the Desert knew better. Those who were barbaric and beastly in the eyes of others knew of the clemency in it, when one who did not pull their own weight was culled—one less mouth to feed, and in doing so, several others fed in turn.

The weak perished in the West, and the strong prevailed.

Such thoughts brushed the mind of the Gerudo King as he sat in a lonely dining hall, derived of the barest essentials and bereft of many items that would see the bland chamber called such a thing. Wooden walls were bare save only for a few spears and one tattered tapestry of the Gerudo insignia, worn by ages and clearly the salvage of a ruin. A large table, enough to seat twelve, sat opposite a hearth, lit with a pot of boiling water ready. Two lonesome lanterns hung from beams across a high ceiling, providing poor illumination while the only window was closed to the nightly chill.

Settling his heavy weight in a somewhat crude armchair, large enough to pass for a bandit's throne and forged of wood and hides, he awaited the Bug Princess with impatience. One elbow perched upon the arm of it; Ganondorf let his jaw rest on a closed fist, wearing a scornful look as golden eyes fixated upon the large door across the way.

The child was, for whatever reason, taking her time to answer his summons. Blunt-nailed fingertips drummed with thinly veiled contempt for this, the occasional twitch running through his biceps and shoulders whenever the thought of striking her when she finally came crossed his mind.

Agitha, he had concluded, was not unlike the boar. A dull thing, with limited use, that at present did not appear to be worth supporting—the resources necessary keep the child alive was very nearly wasted on her, the ungrateful and clueless Hylian she no doubt was. But unlike the mount he had seen to earlier, carving its flesh without a second thought as to whether it deserved its fate, the child was simply that: a child. Both he and Agitha were likely unaware of the services she could provide him, if any, but he had given her the benefit of the doubt.

He had also given her the opportunity to prove her worth, and here he sat, waiting on her as the boar leg hung beside the hearth, already skinned. He had made her task even easier than it should've been, and still, the girl was running late.

A sneer cracked his lip as his hatred of Hylians instantaneously doubled in that moment, and with a flare of temper he tore himself upward from his perch, heavy stomps muffled by sand as he strode toward the hearth fire.

 _Were it a woman, in the place of a child_ , he thought viciously, eyeing one particularly heated rod of iron used for stoking coals,  _she'd know better than to keep a man waiting._

Though some small part of him tried to cast it aside, the Gerudo found himself lowering with the intent to pick it up, slow and almost cautious in movement as is common with malice aforethought. He plucked at the cotton fabric about his knees, hiking it up just a touch as he knelt, a large hand reaching forward to remove the poker. Even when his calloused fingers brushed the metal, it was a tantalising mixture of cold iron and inherited warmth—the other end of it, amongst the flame, was a sharp incline of heat, coloured a violent and vengeful red. Lifting it before his face, round ears perked to the subtle hiss of protest it made to the significantly colder air around him, and a tiny smirk betrayed his intent.

Then it came, the faintest rapping upon the chamber door, a quiet and unsure knock against wood to echo softly into the expanse as his feral gaze snapped to the door and the Gerudo stood sharply, crimson hair tumbling over his shoulders in unbound and languid curls.

"Enter." he barked with a rich rumble, the tone of it greedy for recompense as the iron poker was held at his side, angled so as to be slightly hidden behind his leg from the view of the doorway.

Ganondorf withheld a sinister chuckle as the sound of her scream from earlier ghosted through his mind—if that was the result of a tug to her pigtail, the sound to tear away from her throat at the touch of red hot iron was sure to be worth the wait. But as he stood there ready to receive the impudent whelp, the door didn't budge. Fiery brows were quick to knit together as his canines flashed once more, sadistic thrills set aside by impatience.

"You would keep me waiting even longer?" he hissed, grip tightening about the iron until his knuckles were white. "Hurry up, Child!"

His large frame tensed with the insult, glaring at the door with such an intensity as to set it ablaze, though when after a moment the door still did not open, a small voice came floating from the other side of it so softly that Ganondorf was scarcely sure he heard it.

"…Agitha cannot open the door… It's too heavy for her…"

It wasn't often that the Gerudo felt such a thing, but for the briefest of moments, confusion swept his harsh features as her statement came hurtling toward him like a brick to the face. Such a pathetic and feebly given excuse, but fortunately for the bug Princess on the other side, Ganondorf couldn't help but find himself somewhat diffused by it. Of course she couldn't open the door—it was designed to keep others out, and would take a Moblin or the Gerudo himself to shift. Almost immediately, it was washed away by frustrated sigh, seethed through clenched teeth. His free hand came to tuck itself into the silken sash holding his pants in place, a roll of golden eyes with it as the order was tailored to something on a Moblin level of specific.

"Gorahg! Open the damned door!" he ordered with a scowl, a glare sent to the flames and an itch down his spine telling him to put the poker to use on the foolish beast's flesh as well.

After a short pause, the little voice came once again. "…Greg ran away, Your Majesty."

The Gerudo King was not one to be made to look foolish, and the revelation of his own minion's cowardice only topped it all off nicely, as his gaze returned to the door. Rather than the rage so evident on his face moments before, an eerie silence swept him, a sort of calm as his hand was raised toward the entrance. Stoically, the poker was levelled toward the heavy carved wood of his door, and a gentle and negligent flick would see the air thicken with magic. A rough shunt at first, the barrier slowly moved upward to reveal the tiny Bug Princess.

She stood there dishevelled, wearing crudely fashioned rags as the ranks of Bokoblins did; red fabric wrapped about her frail form and held by some sort of leather patchwork corset. Her pigtails askew, blonde bangs stuck to her face by dried sweat, flecks of sand coating her pale skin. Bare feet shifted nervously, toes curling as her hands were held behind her back, head bowed low and lavender eyes downcast. Bent and battered, the blood coated wings were barely visible behind her, a jade necklace with a stag beetle motif appearing to be the only thing of worth to her form.

She dared not look at him, though he silently appraised her. For a moment, Agitha was almost thankful that he did not seem angry with her any longer, and he had opened the door for her, hadn't he? Taking a deep breath, she readied a tiny smile, in order to look up and thank him though when she did, it faded quickly. A small jerk of surprise ran through her, as Agitha realised the Gerudo didn't stand before her, but far across the room from her.

Curled in the hollow of her collarbone, the Pillbug shuddered, wishing to curl impossibly tighter, and Agitha, caught by the oddity of how he'd opened a door without touching it, sadly did not notice the small creature's warning.

Just as her mouth opened to ask, her eyes were drawn by yet another flick of the fire poker. Agitha was not one to look at such a thing and see danger—she had already noticed the hearth. A naïve mind did not register it as a weapon or a threat, or out of place in his hand. Before she could think on it further, she felt a strange tug at the air around her, and like a fish upon an angler's line, she felt her body thrown forward with great force.

A shriek left her as the girl was launched forward, so quickly that the dimly lit room became a blur of shadows cast by the flames until the sandy flooring came rising upwards to meet her. It was all Agitha could do to throw her arms up in vain; grains scraped the skin of her arms, leaving her elbows raw, as she landed roughly at the Gerudo's feet with a small cry, dull pain spreading through her as her cute face twisted with discomfort.

The Pillbug was far lighter than its Princess, and momentum was not on its side. When Agitha stopped, it had the misfortune to continue, thrown from the warmth of her skin to skitter across the sand and off towards the small throne.

Towering above her crumpled form, Ganondorf peered downward with a stony expression, watching with apathy as Agitha coughed weakly, holding in the fresh sound of a sob as tears prickled her vision. The light of the fire danced darkly against his skin, and slowly he lowered the iron poker to point at her, the reddened tip of it glowing wickedly.

"Look at me, Child." he began, his voice quietly cold though his golden eyes burned. "I want to make something perfectly clear to you."

Agitha flinched further when she heard the tone, reminded of the Piggies Domah and Forg as a pulse of fear ran through her bones—it was the same voice that had tricked them, the same tone he'd used before hurting them. Her eyes did not want to open for him, even as she weakly turned her head up to comply. Her fingers curled weakly into the sand, and slowly her lavender gaze was forced upward, a slight tremble to her neck as if it strained to hold her head up. Though her vision lingered on the cotton of his pants, it halted when it found the heated iron levelled at her, eyes wide.

Ganondorf, despite his order, was perfectly content to let her attention stick fast to it. Experimentally, he moved slightly, and upon seeing the child's eyes follow the glow with a catlike focus continued, drew a slow and controlled breath as his low tone returned.

"Your life is mine to do with what I wish. You, Child, are on my lands and thus, are subject to my laws…" Nonchalantly, he raised the poker upward, pretending to inspect it further. "If you run, the Desert will claim you. If you disobey me, I will punish you. I will not tolerate insolence, and I will not guarantee your safety if I am returned with foolishness."

From beneath long lashes, Agitha strained glassed eyes to keep focussed upon him, though she could hardly tear her gaze away from the length of metal he held. Her body ached with the abuse of being shoved about and thrown over the course of the day, and caught beneath his scrutiny again, she felt the courage she'd built up beforehand fading again quickly, left only able to nod lightly at his words in a stunned and fearful silence.

A tense moment of silence passed between them, and though the Gerudo thought that perhaps the gravity and reality of how she was to exist here might be sinking into the child's incomplete mind, Agitha was—beneath her caution—making mental notes of his behaviour. She had noted something very important, in fact, glancing at his face briefly before his own gaze sent hers firmly downward again.

Most people would never dream of being angry with Agitha, simply incapable of it, and so the Bug Princess had no real idea of what anger looked like when other people wore it. In fact, if called upon to give some description, she would have settled on a rather cliché and almost comically exaggerated stereotype, on the verge of believing steam may actually pour from somebody's ears like a boiling kettle. So when the Gerudo presented a near-emotionless and intense façade, calm like a lion watching prey, it simply didn't register to her that he was angered. How could he be?

What ran through Agitha's mind, seeing Ganondorf in such a state above her—looming with a rather nasty looking rod of iron—was exactly the appearance she saw; an emotionless state.

Like a spring wound too tightly by her stress, something simply snapped within her, and the frail girl found herself in the midst of an epiphany as her trembling lessened, and the fear began to leave her eyes. He was like this when he hurt the Piggies; as if he didn't feel bad about it at all. And if he didn't seem to feel anything, and didn't look like he was feeling anything, it must only mean that he really wasn't feeling  _anything_. And that, in Agitha's mind, was sad.

 _If the Bully King can't feel anything, that would explain why he does bad things and is mean._  The terror on her cute face was steadily fading, and weakly, she began to pull herself into a sitting position.  _When normal people do the wrong thing they feel terrible afterwards, but he can't… He can't feel happy or sad or excited, either, then…_

Within her strange mind, with this notion, she looked up at the Gerudo with fresh eyes, and considered what he'd said. However, the Bug Princess's mind was very keen for things like feelings and how they should sound on people's voices, so with some liberties she added what she thought would be there to hear could the Bully King feel.

The result was much better with feeling.

"Agitha knows that she isn't in her Kingdom anymore, Your Majesty." It came so simply and easily, slipping through a tiny smile that was humble and understanding as she peered up at him from upon her knees. A glance was given to her counterpart, the Pillbug, as it unfurled a few meters away. "Your hospitality is… different, and there's a lot of miscommunication here… but Agitha wishes only to be a friend."

The Gerudo peered downward, bemused though his expression went unchanged. He cast his gaze over her once more, taking stock of her features, and found himself intrigued by the bipolar nature of this girl—one second, she cowered at his feet, and the next, she seemed fearless and instead, sought friendship.

He scoffed, the barest hint of amusement in it as his brow hitched. "Is that so." Clearly rhetorical, he clicked his tongue to continue before she could answer. "You've insulted me by being tardy, you insult me again with criticism and by assuming yourself worth my 'friendship', which implies either you see me as a fellow child, or think of yourself too highly…"

Agitha's delicate brows furrowed as her head began to shake, correction forming upon her tongue that she'd not meant to offend, though Ganondorf was already glaring her down, bending a knee to bring himself to her level. The Bug Princess shrank back just a touch as he drew close, the crimson shade of his hair blocking the light from half his face as it fell from his shoulder.

"…and above all, you've spoken without permission, only to fail at giving an acceptable apology for your behaviour." His golden eyes flashed with something that made Agitha's neck itch. "Now, what did I  _just_  say, Child, about insolence?"

The girl swallowed nervously, feeling a bit like a moth cornered by a hungry frog as her hand unconsciously rose to tug lightly at the tips of her left pigtail. "Agitha is sorry, she wasn't trying to win anything… she really doesn't fancy your prizes…" She confessed anxiously, recalling what the Piggy had 'won'.

Without another word, the hand she'd raised was snatched within his large hand, held tightly in a bruising grip. He stood quickly, yanking the girl upwards with him, and barely giving Agitha enough time to find her feet before jerking her arm straight. She very nearly dangled, on the tips of her toes as her eyes grew wide again, a small gasp of pain escaping her as her elbow threatened to pop out of place. She could feel a heat near her wrist, and then a pressure like something pressed to it. Pointed ears twitched to the light hiss that came with it, and as if it was too strange a sensation for her to register immediately, her eyes processed what had happened before the rest of her seemed to.

It was a strange sound, the hiss of her skin bubbling to blister and burning beneath the touch of red hot metal. Agitha could only stare at it, listening to the sound as it seemed to last forever, but as she did, she noticed that another sound was stopping her from hearing it. She could see her arm jerking, as if it were trying to jump out of his grasp and away from the poker. It took her a moment to realise exactly what was happening, but as the Bug Princess sat within her own mind, watching the world through the windows of her eyes, she recognised the other sound.

She was screaming. She was struggling to get away, in agony as her flesh was burnt and marked. She was screaming for him to let her go, to stop, and her whole body was throwing itself backward repeatedly in an effort to break loose.

Inside, Agitha watched this happen, though the pain never seemed to come. She caught a glimpse of the hearth fire as her body thrashed about, and suddenly felt her cheeks wet with tears. She couldn't see the flames anymore, and as her attention went to return to her arm, she found nothing but blackness. Had she closed her eyes, perhaps? But then, there, at the fringe of her vision were the flames again.

That wasn't the hearth fire.

Ganondorf watched the girl struggle with an apathetic air, unrelenting in his punishment and unphased by her attempts to break free. He held her effortlessly, even her strongest protests featherweight against his enhanced strength, and with the hint of satisfaction playing a smirk upon his lips, he silently drank deep of her pain, satisfied that there would be no further issue with the child.

 _With any luck, I'll have a boar leg cooked to perfection after this,_ he thought, a dark flash of humour running through him.

That was until his round ears picked up a change in her pleas. Glancing at the child's face, it was immediately noticeable—her eyes had glazed over, and though her body still acted for her, her mind was clearly elsewhere. The spots of colour upon her cheeks ran with her tears to stain her face, cute features twisted with terror. The Gerudo watched her carefully, his malice waning for curiosity; though he had expected this reaction, something was amiss. He had tortured many men, and a few women to be fair, in his time, but his experience with such a thing had his mind ticking on her expression.

It almost didn't match what she was experiencing, and at this point, neither did her cries—brows furrowed, Ganondorf decided he'd had his fill, and only a moment before he would release her, Agitha reached her loudest and most desperate cry yet.

"Please! Daddy, no!"

It pierced the air with force, a shrill sound that seemed to fill the entire room, very nearly causing the lanterns to flicker in its wake. Caught off guard, the Gerudo reared back, tossing the child away from himself as if it were little Agitha burning him instead. Golden eyes fixated upon the tiny Hylian as she fell, landing on her side in the sand a few feet from him, and a foreboding silence claimed the both of them.

The Pillbug, however, was in the midst of rushing to help poor Agitha when the strange scream had come. It had stopped in its tracks, antennae twitching, and for a moment considered the fact it may have failed its Princess. It turned the briefest glance to the towering Gerudo King, and though it held no grasp of human language, deduced that the silence was far more informative. Tentatively, it continued to scurry past, heading for Agitha once it was sure it would not be squashed.

Ganondorf, as the Pillbug had noted, no longer felt the want to be angry, or malicious. Instead, he stood intrigued, a morbid fascination beginning to bloom as his fingers twitched by his side. His scowl darkened with lines of confusion, a glance given to the iron before his eyes wandered back to the girl.

Idly, he wondered if she'd seen such treatment before, though as he studied her pale flesh, he found it bereft of any evidence to suggest so. What exactly was that just now, then, that she'd said? Surely, the child could not be so confused as to think he was her father, no matter how much she fancied herself a Princess… One need only look upon her, and him, to tell they were of no possible relation.

Ganondorf's eyes squinted some in thought, and finally, he turned away from her, assuming the girl unconscious as he stepped toward the hearth, a flick of his wrist embedding the rod of iron into the sand before it. Gritting his teeth, he realised now that perhaps Domah and Forg had picked this one for a better reason than he'd given credit for, beyond a simple description.

 _Of course, I can't ask them what that might've been,_ he sighed, rubbing his temple with the thought.

If there was more to this Hylian then first met the eye, with his luck, it could have been any number of things—Perhaps, in a twist, they had found an illegitimate daughter to the King. Certainly, not Zelda, but if such were the case, he may have some leverage to work with, to the dead Moblins' credit. It certainly seemed she had a father issue of some sort, and knowing the Royal family, traumatic experience did seem to fit the bill in the case of a cover up.

 _She was a resident of Castle Town…_ Crossing bulky arms, Ganondorf sent the girl another sidelong glance, ponderous as his fingers drummed upon a bicep.  _Perhaps I should take her up on this 'friendship' she wants to start… Find out a little more about her; see if there is a connection to Zelda there after all._

Even if it was something as simple as the child  _playing_ with the Princess—the Gerudo could certainly imagine the noble Zelda giving a childhood friend the honorary title of 'Princess', as well.

A tired sigh saw a large hand be swept through his crimson hair as Ganondorf reluctantly settled on a course of action, silently cursing himself for bringing about such a position in the first place. Such a frail child didn't really stand to last long in the Desert, and he knew he'd have to keep a sharp eye on her if she was to continue to survive, let alone serve him in any fashion. It was a nuisance, but the potential there was simply to curious to pass by without some investigation.

As the Pillbug crawled onto the Princess's abused form, it settled upon the flush warmth of her cheek, willing her to awaken as it set about cleaning the tears from her face. Its antennae constantly checked her vitals, as well as tracked any movement from the other, and faithfully watched him from beneath her lashes as the surly Gerudo seemed to go about his business, ignoring Agitha to simply cook the boar leg himself.

And so it was that the weak would hence survive in the desert, at the whim of the strong.


End file.
